Disheveled
by Darkness Alit
Summary: Yuri is pulled through to the other world again, greeted by a yelling Wolfram and a slightly disheveled Conrart.


Disclaimer: I just really enjoy watching the show.

And I _am_ alive. Sorry I haven't been reading/posting anything recently, but my computer was in the ICU, and I'd almost picked out a coffin before a friend managed to bring it back to life. A really appreciate all the reviews on my last story, even though I didn't get to read them until today.

ConYu, of course.

* * *

He'd gotten used to being pulled into the other world at rather random times. It no longer shocked him, though he'd still like to be given some warning. Any sense of modestly he'd had at fifteen had taken a severe beating, thanks to various mortifying arrivals, so being pulled through in his swim trunks didn't even make him blink.

Wolfram, however, flushed scarlet. "Did we interrupt you?" he hissed, sweat dripping down his temple.

Yuri was distracted as Conrart helped him climb out of the rain barrel he'd been dumped in. Conrart was wearing his normal uniform, with just the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up. "Hm? Oh, no, not really." He accepted the towel and quickly rubbed the worst of the water from his hair before finger-combing it just enough that he wouldn't look like a cartoon electric shock victim when it dried. His clothes were already set out and waiting for him on a crate, but he preferred to dry a bit more first. Besides… "It's even hotter here!" he protested, feeling the last of pool and rainwater evaporating quickly from his bare skin.

"You cheat!"

Ah, there it was—Yuri had practically been hearing Wolfram's temper climbing steadily to the explosion point since he'd arrived.

"You were getting close to someone over there, weren't you—dressed like that!"

Yuri just rolled his eyes, knowing by now interrupting a rant would only make it last longer.

"That's it! I'm breaking the engagement!" Wolfram stomped to the waiting horses, threw himself into the saddle and rode off without a backwards glance.

Yuri blinked for a moment before snorting. "Wasn't it broken over a year ago? Ah, well." He shrugged.

"I believe he has now resigned himself to that fact," was Conrart's explanation for his little brother's behavior. "Did you enjoy your swim?"

"It wasn't so much a swim as a way to beat the heat," Yuri countered, deciding he was dry enough to dress. "But yeah, I did. I joined a pick-up sandlot game, and we all decided to head to the pool when the heat killed all desire for a rematch when the game was over." Amazing, really. It was so hot that dedicated ballplayers chose to declare themselves too overheated and dusty for another round. That, or they were just all at the age that checking out girls in bikinis was a fair alternate pastime.

"Is all well, your majesty?"

"Hm?" Yuri pulled his shirt down over his head, leaving the heavier black over-shirt on the crate. "Everything's fine, Conrad. Why do you ask?"

"Then you're displeased with me?"

"What? Conrad, what are you talking about?" he fastened his pants and contemplated his shoes and socks thoughtfully.

"Since arriving, your majesty, you've avoided looking at me."

"It's Yuri," he protested, staring stubbornly at his shoes.

"Is it?"

"Always." He finally looked up, immediately flushing. "You know that."

Conrart had relaxed quite a bit when Yuri flushed, but still studied his king intently. "Yuri."

At the half-warning, half-curious tone the bright color spread to Yuri's ears and down his neck. "Uhm…" He coughed and looked around for a good answer, knowing he probably wouldn't find one flashing in neon but hopeful all the same. Finally he gave up on saving his pride and slumped. "It's… your shirt."

"My shirt?" Conrart looked down, seeing nothing to warrant such a reaction. Or any reaction, really.

"I've never seen you dressed less than perfectly, even when wounded, except…" A final bit of embarrassed teen welled up and choked him. In the next instant it didn't matter—Conrart had obviously figured it out. His eyes had heated and his lips curled in a smirk Yuri was still getting used to, having once believed that that particular expression didn't exist for the man.

"Interesting," he said at last, his voice deeper.

A shiver spun down Yuri's spine, even as he stared fixedly at that undone button and the small stretch of skin it bared. He _knew_ his reaction didn't make sense. He'd been completely comfortable in the pool with bikini g-strings, with other guys his age making less than _subtle_ suggestions and observations about the bared flesh around them, dressed as sparingly as he'd been. He'd seen Conrart wearing a lot less on numerous occasions, as well. But somehow just a tiny glimpse of skin rarely seen by itself, and he was all flustered.

"I'm surprised you—"

Yuri moved while Conrart spoke, before he could react, pressing his lips to that skin, tasting summer sweat and _Conrart_ before drawing back, putting the button back where it belonged for his own peace of mind. "I think," he mused, "that it's because of what's usually going on when I see you… disheveled." He looked up through his lashes, affecting a slight pout. "You haven't welcomed me back, yet."

Immediately fingers were threaded through his hair, tilting and holding his head for a demanding yet lingering kiss.

It was only Ao's impatient snort and stomp that broke the two apart. Conrart tipped his brow to Yuri's, their lips brushing with every breath. "Welcome home, love."

Yuri clicked his tongue and did up the mysteriously loosed button once again.


End file.
